And the Greatest of These
by lolo1
Summary: 5 years after Voldemort's demise, the infamous trio is thrown back together-In a race to save the future, can Ron and Hermione overcome their past to stop an ancient evil from using 3 powerful books and find out what power is the greatest of these?ch8 up!
1. August 24th

DISCLAIMER!!! I am not the fabulously fabulous JKR and, therefore, do not own these characters. I am merely using them and their world to play around in for a bit.

"Missing you is the definition of hope."

* * *

Magic is everywhere, whether you know it or not. It hides in the tiniest, deepest, darkest places and comes out when you least expect it, showing you things about the world and yourself that you never noticed before. It makes life anything but ordinary.

But, then again, maybe there never was such a thing as ordinary. Sure, people might try, even pretend to be ordinary, but life always has a way of adding a little extra something to everything that makes a plain little ordinary, EXTRAordinary. And it's in the little moments of extraordinary that you see the magic coming out of the corners and turning your life into something that you didn't expect.

But the truth is this: the magic that is all around you, the one that almost no one ever sees, the magic that can be the most powerful of all, is magic that doesn't come from a wand. It's the magic that adds that extra little something to life that completely turns your world upside down.

And it's that extra little something that makes all the difference.

* * *

Hermione Granger groaned and rolled over in her bed before opening her eyes and blinking into the blinding sunlight. 'Merlin, I hate sunshine,' she thought as she quickly closed her eyes again and tried desperately to go back to sleep. But the sun persisted in glaring into her face, and after several minutes, she gave up and sat up in her bed.

"One day, I'm actually going to get curtains for that window," she muttered as she stood up and pulled her dressing gown about her. She slowly got up and walked out of her bedroom into the kitchen of her modest flat, grabbing her appointment book as she passed by her nightstand.

Hermione threw the appointment book on the kitchen counter, and then began to make her morning tea. Humming idly to herself, she picked up her wand from off the kitchen table and swished it in the direction of her cupboard. A moment later, a mug, followed by a tea bag, flew out of the cupboard and landed gently on the counter in front of her. She grabbed her plan book from near her and dragged it towards her before she flicked her wand at it, causing it to open to today's date. Sticking her wand into the mug, a gentle stream of steaming water poured out of the tip as she began to read about her plans for the day. Hermione's eyes locked in on the date: August 24th.

An alarm quickly sounded in the back of Hermione's head and she felt a familiar feeling of dread tug at her stomach. Chewing her bottom lip, she scanned over the page to see if anything was planned. The words 'back to school shopping' were printed in her neat hand across the top of the page.

"Ow!" she cried, boiling water slopping out of her cup and onto her hand, causing her to jerk back her hand and wand in surprise. Hermione walked over to the sink and began to pour cool water on her burned hand, silently cursing for allowing herself to become so distracted. Her mind soon moved onto a much more pressing subject: the matter of her back to school shopping. Of course she would need more supplies; an Arithmancy teacher, after all, can't survive on only a few rolls of parchment and broken quills. She needed to get more supplies and quickly, seeing as she was going back to Hogwarts on the 27th, she told herself as she dried her hands and walked into her living room, her cup of tea forgotten.

Hogwarts………undoubtedly, the most wonderfully terrible place in the world, the name itself, being able to evoke such memories of happiness and sadness that not even Hermione knew where to begin, let alone how to sort them. But she was not one to dwell on memories. Today especially, she needed-- and longed for-- the ability to move on and forget.

Hermione mulled over her plans for the day once again. Could she brave Diagon Alley today of all days? Could she risk seeing someone she knew when they obviously knew what today was? Even worse, could she brave the scores of celebrating strangers that would undoubtedly have _something_ to say about the day? She sat down on one side of the beige loveseat and looked at the neat desk in the corner and the shelves of organized books that lined one side of the living room and the framed landscape photographs that hung on the drab walls. The only signs of life in the flat were the small blinking lights on the Muggle telephone answering machine and the television, relics of her muggle childhood that she was reluctant to let go. Hermione let out a shivering sigh and drew her legs up to her chest, placing her chin between her knees. She had made up her mind. She couldn't stay here alone. Not today. "Diagon Alley, here I come."

* * *

Ron Weasley had been up for an hour already. He had attempted to make himself breakfast, but after the 7th piece of black toast, he decided to give it up and settle for a cup of tea and a bowl of cold cereal. Grabbing them both, he made his way to his office.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley!" said a merrily plump little woman with ruddy red cheeks, as he passed her straightening the pictures in the hall as he walked by.

"Morning Hannah," he answered through a mouthful of cereal, winking at her. "Lovely morning!"

"Most definitely," she answered, her cheeks turning even redder. "Do you want me to clean your office today, sir?"

"Nah, don't bother," he answered. "It'll only be dirty again by the end of the day. But would you mind taking Gus for a walk?"

"Not at all, Mr. Weasley," Hannah answered, her smile wide and eager.

"Thanks, Hannah," Ron answered as he continued down the hall. "And it's Ron, Hannah. Not Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

He turned around and shot her one last smile before he entered his office, plopping down in his chair and grabbing at the calendar that he kept on his desk that Ginny had given him for Christmas in the hopes that he might actually get organized. Taking a spoonful of cereal, he stared down over it, checking to see if he had miraculously written any part of his schedule down. The date, August 24th, stared back at him. Ron froze.

It was the 24th already. He pushed back a bit in his chair and ran his hands roughly through his hair. "Five years," he muttered to himself before he shook his head, deciding that the last thing he wanted and needed to do today was think about what had happened five years ago. He glanced back down at his calendar and saw the words 'lunch with Harry and Ginny' scrawled across the top in a neat script that was not his own. Ron groaned, cursing himself for promising to join them out for lunch, cursing them for their ability to talk him into it on today of all days, and cursing Ginny for writing it down on his calendar, making him incapable of using the "I forgot" excuse again. He ran through possible excuses in his head, each less believable and less likely to work than the one before. Ron took another bite of cereal, chewing slowly. It had gotten soggy, but it didn't matter anyways; he had lost his appetite.

"Damn you, Potter," Ron muttered, setting his bowl down on his desk. Everyone knew what day it was, probably Harry most of all, and had planned it so that they were all together today.

"Ron?" came a voice from behind him. Ron turned around, wiping at his eyes. He didn't see anyone in the room or at the door, so his eyes shifted automatically went to the fireplace.

"Hullo, Ginny," Ron said to the face of his baby sister, which was engulfed in tongues of green flames. He knelt down on the hearth and smiled. Anyone that got a glimpse of his sister couldn't help but smile at her still girlish features peaking out from under a feathery, red-haired fringe and a countless number of freckles.

"Hi, Ron! You're still coming today, aren't you?" Ginny asked her brother.

"Well, I'm just fine, Gin! Thanks for asking!"

Ginny eyed Ron carefully. She paused briefly before continuing. "So, are you?"

Ron paused and looked down at the tiled hearth. "I don't know."

"Ron!"

"Don't 'Ron' me, Ginny," Ron answered looking up at Ginny, who was eyeing him, clearing frustrated.

"We were all there, Ron."

"I know, Gin-,"

"You can't go into hiding just because it's the 24th. You need to be with people," Ginny's brown eyes, so unlike Ron's own blue ones, got slightly cloudy. "I know how horrible that day was and understand what you're going through--more than you know. I know what it feels like not wanting to see anyone, I know the guilt, and I definitely know the regret."

Ron sighed. "I know you do," he replied.

"But I also know what it's like to move on, Ron." Ginny's expression lightened a bit, growing slightly sympathetic. "I know you can't completely forget it, but you've got to move past it. You need to accept that it's over and that she's not coming back and move on."

Ginny paused, hoping that her brother would listen to her. "Just come out to lunch with us. Think of Harry, Ron. He needs to be with people. He needs to be with US. We won't talk about it at all. We can talk all about me………or even you for that matter. Pointing out the flaws in your life always manages to cheer me up." Ginny held her breath, hoping for the best.

Ron looked up and smiled. "Alright. Where are we meeting?"

Ginny beamed, her previously dark expression gone from her face, relieved that her brother was coming. "Leaky Cauldron. I sent Harry a message that we would meet at around 1:30 but he seems to be so busy, what with standing up yet another one of my friends and all, that he hasn't answered yet."

Ron smiled ruefully. "1:30. I'll see you then, Gin."

"Bye Ron!" Ginny cried and with a POP! her head disappeared from the fireplace. Ron walked back over to the window, overlooking his backyard. The sun had risen bright and glorious, almost as though it was promising Ron that today would be a good day. He smiled and found himself actually looking forward to seeing Ginny and his best friend, but was still able to shake that unmistakable feeling of dread in his stomach. Ron turned away from the window and ran into the small table next to it, knocking over a picture frame.

He reached down and brought it up to his face, peering at the picture. He smiled sadly and set the picture back down before walking away from the picture to his room to get changed, as the girl in the picture with the bushy brown hair, smiled and waved after him.

* * *

Hermione walked into her bathroom, turned on the shower, then walked into her adjoining bedroom to make her bed as the shower warmed up. Her mind began to wander as she smoothed the sheet down and placed the crisp white comforter over them, thinking about what she needed to buy. Her mind went over the essentials: parchment, ink, and quills—perhaps a new bag for her books and possibly some new robes. She had also heard about a new book on Arithmancy written by her old Arithmancy professor, Professor Vector, which had recently come out. 'Might as well pick one up,' she thought as she lay the pillows down and fluffed them up a bit.

Hermione walked back into the steamy bathroom, took off her pajamas and got inside the shower, the hot water warming her chilled flesh. Her mind, already having completed a mental shopping list, began to wander of its own accord as to what else could be accomplished at Diagon Alley as her lip once again found itself being chewed. There would undoubtedly be celebrations all over all day, celebrating the incredibly horrible but necessary ordeal that had taken place five years ago—not that she would be taking part in any of them. She had read what the papers had been saying about her and her behavior, particularly her rather hermit-like behavior that she always exhibited on the 24th of August and knew exactly how they expected her to act.

A workaholic, that's what they called her. And yes, perhaps in some cases they were a little right, but with the most convenient definitions, Hermione simply was her job. She couldn't really help it if she was a workaholic. When it had come down to it and she had had to choose, she had chosen the peaceful and stable future that working as an Arithmancy teacher promised, as opposed to the unpredictable life that she had first chosen for herself. The choice seemed to have suited her just fine and success quickly followed her foray into the teaching world, making her become a well-known expert on the subject of Arithmancy and allowing her to still claim the same title that she had had as a girl at Hogwarts: the cleverest witch of her age—and now, quite possibly—the world. And Hermione, never being one to conform or condescend to the opinions and expectations of others, knew exactly what she had to do.

'What about lunch?' she asked herself. 'I'll undoubtedly be hungry and I could always stop at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm sure Marianne wouldn't mind meeting me.' Her mind went back and forth about this for several minutes, weighing the pros and cons of each situation, until she finally made her decision. She had to go. 'I probably won't see anyone I know there anyway.'

Hermione smiled and got out of the shower, drying herself off with a white towel. She looked around at her stark white, clean bathroom and found herself feeling cold again. She wrapped the towel around herself and grabbed a brush out a cabinet, brushing her hair out in front of the mirror. Even though her hair was wet, the frizzy curls of her hair were already beginning to take shape. She'd given up trying to tame them years ago. She had no one to impress anymore and didn't find it necessary to waste all that time in the morning straightening her hair if only her students and the other professors were going to see it.

Hermione walked out of her bathroom and over to her closet, grabbing a pair of jeans, and a light brown shirt and putting them on before walking back to her bathroom. She gathered her hair into a bun in the back of her head. She fixed it there, but soon found that it did not stay too well; little strands of hair had already begun to fall out of place. She gave up attempting to fix it and just left it alone.

Hermione stepped back and gazed at herself in the mirror. Reaching up, she pinched her cheeks, trying to add some color to her pale cheeks. She smiled uncertainly and walked out of her bathroom, grabbing her purse, shopping list and wand. And with a POP, she apparated to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Ron apparated to Diagon Alley early in hopes of being able to walk around for a bit. Since his work kept him pretty busy, he had not been back to Diagon Alley in months and was looking forward to being able to look around before he met Harry and Ginny for lunch. His sudden appearance on the street did more than attract a few glances from passers-by—and for more reasons than one. But whether it was because of his role in the events of five years ago or the fact that he was Ron Weasley, World Class Auror, he did not know. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to slowly walk down the street, attempting to ignore the stares from the other people on the street.

Even though quite a few years had passed since he had left Hogwarts, Ron knew that he would forever be Harry Potter's sidekick from their school days. He had long ago given up on trying to escape this identity and had grudgingly accepted it as part of him. And although he had grown up quite a bit, he hadn't changed or grown enough to be able to stop people from recognizing him. He was taller than ever, though his body had lost its gangly and lanky appearance and had been replaced by the fit body that was required of an Auror. His hair remained as red as it was the day he was born and it seemed as though Ron's freckles, which he had thought he had enough of, seemed to have multiplied—not that he minded or anything. Freckles gave him character—or that's at least what his mum said. His blue eyes had still retained their mischievous gleam and while his face fit the man of 23 that he was, Ginny told him that if he smiled just right, he looked uncommonly like the boy she remembered at Hogwarts—despite the many scrapes and bumps that his chosen profession had given him. People recognizing him, especially in Diagon Alley on August the 24th, was inevitable.

It was definitely one of the downsides of being an Auror. Privacy was hard to come by—almost as hard as free time--, especially when you were as good an Auror as Ron was—or so he was told. But, after a particularly grueling case he had just returned from in China, he was getting some much deserved rest and relaxation that came in the form of a month-long vacation. He smiled ruefully to himself and continued to walk down the street towards Gringotts bank, where he had decided to make his first stop.

Twenty minutes later, he emerged from Gringotts bank, his pockets clinging cheerfully with the money he had just removed from the bank. He began to wander idly around Diagon Alley in search of a way to kill the half an hour that he had until lunch. His feet traveled of their own accord down the well beaten path that he had grown to know so well as he wound down the main street of Diagon Alley. Sticking his hands into his pockets, he jingled the money around a bit in his pocket, attempting to drown out the voice of a young witch pointing at him to her friend.

"There he is," the girl whispered in an annoyingly loud voice. "Everyone was wondering whether or not he'd show up here today."

Ron added a whistle to the jingling change.

The other girl soon piped in, "Didn't that Hermione girl leave-,"

Ron quickly cleared his throat and strode down the street in an attempt to escape the gossip, but as soon as he rounded the corner, he met another group, all staring openly at him. Rather than face them, he quickly turned and entered the first shop that he could. The smell of musty paper and dust filling his nostrils and the rows and rows of towering bookshelves that greeted him told him that he had entered Flourish and Blotts.

Not exactly a regular in such a store, he began to idly wander around, casually glancing at the titles of different books and avoiding the glances from the other customers until he reached a section in the back that made him pause. Walking down the aisle, he ran his hands down the line of books, following the names of each of the authors until he came to the one he had been looking for.

"The Art of Arithmancy" by Professor Hermione Granger. Ron picked the book up and turned it over to the back cover. Hermione's picture smiled up at him. A little biography was on the inside flap of the book cover.

It read: Professor Hermione Granger, born of Muggle parents, attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she received the most O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S of any student to ever attend. Shortly after graduation, Professor Granger pursued her dream of being an Auror, but after a few short months, she gave it up for her greater love of Arithmancy. Professor Granger now lives in London and teaches Arithmancy at her Alma Mater.

Ron smiled, tucked the book under his arm and, after consulting his watch, began to start towards the front of the store. At the end of the aisle, Ron, who was not watching where he was going, ran straight into a short woman in a light brown shirt that had her nose buried in a book.

"Sorry," he mumbled, before continuing to walk up to the front of the store.

Upon reaching the front, he paid for his book and politely signed a piece of parchment for the clerk with his autograph, which the clerk asked to be addressed to his sister. At exactly 1:30, Ron walked into the Leaky Cauldron, his bag from the bookstore at his side.

"Ron!" cried Ginny as she ran up and threw her arms around her big brother.

"Wotcher, Ginny!" Ron answered as he staggered from the force of Ginny's hug, but returning it with equal vigor. "You're going to kill someone someday," he continued, though the caring in his voice clearly showed through.

Ginny released him and smiled, holding her brother away at arm's length. "You came," she said simply.

"I told you I would."

"You look tired."

"I feel tired."

"You came," she repeated, smiling warmly.

"All right there, Weasley?" came a deep voice from behind Ron.

Ron turned around and cast an appraising look at his best friend.

Harry Potter smirked casually back at Ron behind his messy black hair which had, over the years, adopted a look of much more control than he had ever been able to muster during his school years. His face was ruggedly handsome, having finally lost its boyish features from childhood. His deep green eyes, though they now shone out in happiness, communicated a sort of deep bitterness and hidden darkness to match his past. His forehead stood out, unusually smooth, void of his once famous scar. Harry, unable to break the habit from his school days, unconsciously flipped some of his hair around on his face to cover his forehead, still aware of the many stares he was receiving.

Ron shrugged. "All right. You?"

"I'm all right," Harry answered.

Harry extended his hand and shook Ron's firmly, neither communicating the years of friendship and loyalty between the two, but both knowing that such things were not necessary. Patting Harry on the back, Ron made his way towards the table that his sister had previously been sitting, desperately wanting to make it to the table before Ginny started in on Harry. He had just placed his bag from the bookstore on the seat next to him when he heard Ginny screech, "Oh, HARRY, how could you?" Ron smirked and grabbed a menu, just as Harry and Ginny took their seats across from him, Ginny looking upset and Harry just looking uncomfortable. Ron smirked. There was nothing in the world better than watching Harry get chewed out by Ginny.

"But Melinda is so NICE," Ginny continued.

"She just wasn't my type, Gin," Harry answered, taking a sip from the water glass in front of him.

"How would you know if she was your type or not?" Ginny retorted, absolutely bristling and adopting a look much like that Mrs. Weasley was often seen giving. "You didn't have the decency to at least show up for the date."

Harry shrugged.

"Melinda's one of the most promising reporters at the Daily Prophet," Ginny continued.

"Hang on," Ron interrupted. "Melinda? Melinda Baxter? Isn't she the one whose nos-,"

"They put her nose back where it belonged," Ginny snapped indignantly.

Ron snorted and caught Harry's eye.

Ginny folded her arms in front of her. Ever since she had become a reporter for the Daily Prophet, she had been trying to set Harry up with her numerous friends at the newspaper, though none of them seemed to fit.

"I don't really think journalists are my thing," Harry answered, eyeing a pretty blonde waitress over at the bar.

Ginny turned around, following Harry's line of sight. "What? And thick, blonde waitresses are?" Ginny sighed. "You're just too picky. And fickle. And flighty. And-,"

"Thanks, Gin," Harry answered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Don't worry, though. I've got plenty more coming your way," Ginny answered, picking up her menu.

Harry put on a rather forced smile and looked pleadingly over at Ron.

"What's new with you Ginny?" Ron asked, searching for another subject.

"Other than having to console my heartbroken friends, not all that much," she replied.

All three friends laughed and Ginny looked ruefully up at them, smirking. A few moments later the waiter arrived and took their orders. After he left, the three friends continued to talk, keeping the conversations light and airy and of things of no consequence, not wanting to touch or think about what had happened five years ago.

* * *

Hermione walked out of Flourish and Blotts, a book bag clutched in her hand, practically bursting from all the books she had stuffed in it. Most were on Arithmancy, however she had a few other odd books tucked in here and there. One book was concealed especially well between a thick volume on the history of the flobberworm and old Professor Vector's book on Arithmancy; the newest addition to Witch Weekly's Romance Reading List, "In Love With a Werewolf". Hermione walked towards the school supply store, skirting the occasional person that did a double take as she walked by. She had already been stopped by several people on the street as she walked around Diagon Alley and had signed a piece of parchment for a clerk's sister at Flourish and Blotts and was in no mood to put up with more. She walked into the store and quickly replenished her parchment supply before making her way over to the quill and ink section of the store. She was comparing the textures of two different eagle feather quills when she heard her name called.

"Miss Granger?" came a voice from behind her.

Hermione sighed and turned around. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm rather busy-oh!" She stopped talking as she came face to face with the deathly pale face of her former professor and current co-worker, Minerva McGonagall.

The sinking feeling she had experienced this morning appeared again.

"Professor, McGonagall," she answered, looking at her, from her still jet black bun to her starkly crisp robes.

"Hello, Miss. Granger," said the equally crisp voice of the professor.

"Afternoon, Professor," she answered, noticing how, despite all they had been through and the fact that they now worked together, Hermione and her former professor were still incapable of acknowledging each other as colleagues.

McGonagall looked over Hermione, her eyes betraying her by showing the slightest hint of surprise in them. "What are you doing out today?"

"I need to get my supplies. I'm returning to school shortly."

"Today?" McGonagall continued, slowly drawing the word out.

"Yes, today," Hermione answered, pushing out her chin a bit in indignation and false pride. "I don't have much time."

"I see," she responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Today is-,"

"I know what today is," Hermione cut him off, mirroring her crossed arms.

McGonagall offered her a small smile of encouragement "Good day, Ms. Granger. I'll see you in a few days," she answered with a nod, before turning on her heel and stalking off, her black robes billowing out behind her.

Hermione turned around, frowning slightly before she selected several sets of eagle feather quills. She walked up to the front of the store to pay, but before she did, she grabbed a sugar quill from a display near the counter for good measure. Several minutes later, she walked out of the store, her two bags, made light by spells, hung unceremoniously by her side, as she decided what exactly it was she wanted to do next. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was 1:45 and felt her stomach rumble in response. Tugging on her brown shirt, she headed toward the Leaky Cauldron before returning home and headed off for the opposite end of the alley.

Several minutes later, Hermione spotted the sleek black hair of her friend Marianne standing outside the Leaky Cauldron, chatting animatedly to the person next to her. However, when she spotted Hermione, she quickly said good-bye to the person, stuck her hand up in the air, and shouted, "Hermione!" at the top of her lungs. Marianne was a teacher at Beauxbatons who Hermione had met at a teaching conference in France. The two had become fast friends, though they had two very different personality types, and spent most of their summers in each other's company while the school year was spent in many letters and fireplace visits.

Hermione blushed and rushed over to her friend, ignoring the stares of people who had looked her way. "Marianne, did you have to yell so loudly?"

Marianne smiled cheekily and kissed Hermione's cheek in greeting. "Of course I did. How're you doing?"

"All right," Hermione lied, shrugging. "I'm just starving."

"Then let's go get something to eat, silly," Marianne said, linking her arm with Hermione's and leading the other girl into the Leady Cauldron.

* * *

"Stop drooling, Potter," Ginny snapped as she sprinkled salt on top of her pile of chips. "She's a human being, not a piece of meat."

Ron smiled through his mouthful of food. For the last half hour, Harry had been giving the eye to the blonde waitress serving them and Ginny was beginning to get a bit fed up.

"I wasn't drooling," Harry responded. "I was merely admiring."

Ginny rolled her eyes and put a few chips into her mouth. Ron saw her eyes lock in on the seat next to him. "What've you got there?" Ginny asked, motioning towards the bag that occupied the empty seat.

"Nothing," Ron mumbled, shoving the chair under the table.

"Oh really?" Harry responded, jumping on the chance for the conversation to be turned away from him. "Nothing?" He grabbed at the bag and pulled it up towards him, ignoring Ron's futile attempts to retrieve it from his friend.

"Hey! Wait! Harry! Don't!" Ron cried, grabbing at Harry.

Harry's eyes shone with mirth. "Could Ronald Weasley actually be READING?" He took the book out of the bag. "Let's see what we've got here." He glanced down at the book and fell silent, his smile disappearing from his face. He looked up at Ron, his mouth open in surprise. "Wha-,"

But he was incapable of finishing his question, as Ginny's voice rang out, interrupting him. Her voice communicated as much shock as Harry's face was showing as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Hermione?"

* * *

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW………pweeeeeeze.

XOXO………lolo


	2. The Halloween Ball REVAMPED!

Hey all!! Here comes chapter 8 featuring the HALLOWEEN BALL!! I decided to shake things up a bit so I did two Harry POVs in this chapter. Hope they aren't too angsty. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!! PLEASE REVIEW!!  
  
11/14/03...just wanted to let you all know that I redid this chapter- expanded a number of parts and changed (or added onto) the ending! I hope you enjoy! My next chapter will be up at the end of this month...Please review and let me know what you think!  
  
DISCLAIMER: STILL DON'T OWN THEM...DOUBT THAT I EVER WILL!  
  
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For Shannon...your constant inspiration and encouragement has kept me going. Thanks for everything! I love you!  
  
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"It's so easy, to think about love, to talk about love, to wish for love, but it's not so easy to recognize love, even when we hold it in our hands."  
  
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"Can you BELIEVE this garbage?" Ron whispered to Harry as they sat in the teacher's lounge during the middle of October. "How the bloody hell did we get roped into going to the teacher's meetings?"  
  
"I know. We're not even teacher's here," Harry whispered back, knowing that he looked just as disgruntled as Ron did. He glanced longingly outside the window at the beautiful autumn afternoon. The air outside was crisp and fresh and the sun was shining down on the grounds. "This is so not fair!"  
  
"Would you two shut up?" Hermione whispered harshly at them. "If you two are going to stay here and live off the food, the LEAST you could do is help out a bit."  
  
"We ARE helping out," Ron answered. "We're the damn keepers of the world's goodness!"  
  
Harry found himself snorting at Ron's remarks, but quickly stopped when Hermione shot them both a warning glance. "Don't you star that again..."  
  
"Next on our agenda," the stern voice of Professor McGonagall said, "We need to discuss the upcoming Halloween Ball." She looked extremely put out at this idea. "The ball will be open for fourth years and up," she said, "but the students are welcome to bring a younger student if they so choose. The food will be the same as it was during the Yule Ball a few years ago. I've gotten some band, NO BROOMS THERE, or something of the sort to play. Horrid music, really, but the children seem to-,"  
  
"You mean NO BROOMS HERE?" Ron suddenly asked.  
  
"Yes," McGonagall answered distractedly. "Some rubbish like that."  
  
"The band NO BROOMS HERE is coming to Hogwarts?" Ron asked excitedly.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley," she answered, "Now onto more-,"  
  
"You booked NO BROOMS HERE?" Harry asked. "As in NO BROOMS HERE the most popular band in the Wizarding community? How the bloody hell did you get them-,"  
  
"Moving ON-Chaperones," McGonagall snapped, throwing both Harry and Ron looks of annoyance. "We need more of them. I was just informed that some of our teachers," she shot a loathing look at Parvati and Professor Trewlaney, "who said they would be available to chaperone are no long able to because of some 'unavoidable circumstances'."  
  
Professor Trewlaney looked shocked. "The conjunction of Saturn's moons, Minerva-,"  
  
"If any of you teachers that did not sign up to chaperone are now available- ,"  
  
"I'll do it!" Harry said quickly, raising his hand up into the air.  
  
"Me too!" Ron added and raised his hand as well.  
  
Harry smiled. He knew that the only reason the two of them were volunteering was so they could see NO BROOMS HERE.  
  
McGonagall looked apprehensively between the two. "All right...," she said nervously. She looked down at the pile of notes in front of her. "You two will be patrolling inside. Mr. Potter, you're taking Sybil's place and will be partnering with Ms. Grindan. Mr. Weasley, you'll be taking Ms. Patil's place and will be Ms. Granger's partner."  
  
Harry felt Ron and Hermione tense up beside him. "Oh Merlin..." he thought as he glanced to his left to see that Ron's ears had turned that familiar shade of red; and then to the right to see that Hermione's cheeks matched Ron's ears. Harry knew very well that balls were a very touchy subject between the two. The last one they both had attended, the Yule Ball of their fourth year, had certainly not gone smoothly. Harry had walked into the Common Room after the ball had ended to find the two screaming at each other over each other's choice of partners. Although neither had ever actually admitted it to Harry, he knew that the only reason they were so upset was that they were both jealous. And, while the arguing had been horrible, it was the wake-up call that Ron had needed.  
  
It was after that night that Ron had begun to look at Hermione differently. Harry really hadn't paid that much attention to it at first. He had always noticed how much they argued but didn't think it meant anything until the day Ron told him how he felt about Hermione that summer after 5th year. It was only then that Harry had thought back and noticed how so many of the little arguments and little snide remarks to each other had something to do with romance.  
  
It wasn't until the Halloween night of their seventh year, however, that the two of them actually admitted their feelings for each other. Actually, come to think of it, he didn't think that they had ever actually admitted their feelings. Ron had just told him some rubbish about them arguing and yelling at each other and then next thing he knew, he was kissing her. And, although the thought of his best friends kissing slightly nauseated him, he was glad the truth was finally out. They had dated throughout a large portion of seventh year, and then, after graduation, had gotten a small flat together. They had lived together, with Harry practically as their third flat mate since he was there so often, for about a year until that fateful August 24th ruined it all.  
  
Harry never talked about that day, hoping that if he didn't talk about it, it would somehow go away. Too many things happened that day that he wanted to forget; too many things that he felt he was somehow responsible for. Sure, tons of people told him that it wasn't his fault, told him that it was because of him that Voldemort was finally gone, told him that he should just forget it and move on. But those people didn't have to dodge those odd glances on the train. They didn't have people around them, constantly making those empty gestures where they seemed just about to touch him, but pulled away at the last moment, almost as if they were afraid to touch him. They didn't have people always saying "I understand," when really, they didn't. Those people didn't know what it was like to wake up at night, bathed in sweat, with the memory of that pale, lifeless face with those haunting red eyes still fresh in their mind. It was hard to forget.  
  
Ron said they should change his name from The-Boy-Who-Lived to The-Boy-That- Wouldn't-Die. He was tainted. He was still the magical world's golden boy, but he was tainted. Everything about that August day changed him in a way that could never be fully fixed. He had been through more in his first seventeen years on earth that most people would be forced to go through in their entire lives. Almost from the day he was born, the fate of the world rested upon his shoulders. He was haunted and hunted his entire life; hunted by hundreds of unknown faces wanting only to see him dead and haunted by those transparent memories: a flash of glasses glinting in the sun, the shadow of a huge dog, a strand of red hair. Harry knew that he had to kill or be killed. Only he could kill Lord Voldemort and save the world. And he had killed, blood spilled on his hands. He was tainted.  
  
And he still had to pass his exams.  
  
And yet, through the blood and the tears, through those warm and almost familiar faces just beyond reach, through all the pain and the hardship, he had persevered. He had won. Or actually, they had won; they including Ron and Hermione, along with himself. They had never left his side through it all, standing by him until the end. And even though they might have come out a bit broken, they had won. Or, at least, that's what everyone kept saying. Harry knew that they were all more than a bit broken.  
  
Hermione ran away. She had lost her parents; she had seen the school she so loved, crumble; she had lost Dumbledore. But, most of all, she had lost Harry and Ron, deciding to run away when she needed them and they needed her most. Ron too had lost many things, but Harry knew that the only thing that really mattered to him was Hermione. He had watched Ron travel all over in search of her; he had watched the hundreds of owls that Ron sent to her in hope of receiving some sort of reply; he had watched Ron seemingly give up his search and pretend to accept the fact that she was gone, but still secretly collect her books and newspaper clippings, almost as though he were looking for a connection, any connection, to the girl he loved.  
  
But, as some smart, dead guy once said, "Time heals all wounds," and Harry found that even these wounds had begun to heal. Yes, they were all more than a bit broken, but now, they were being fixed. They were back in the one place that they all felt safe: with each other. They really had won.  
  
Harry looked back and forth between his two friends and could see that they were determined not to look at each other. "OH, well," he thought as he sat back in his chair, deciding to just sit back and leave well enough alone. At least they weren't arguing.  
  
"Mr. Potter? Are you listening?"  
  
McGonagall's voice suddenly snapped him back to reality.  
  
"Sorry?" he asked looking over at her.  
  
"I asked if you and Mr. Weasley would be able to watch over a few of Ms. Grindan's classes next month seeing as she will be out of town."  
  
"Oh, yes!" Harry answered. "I'd be glad to."  
  
"It's no problem," Ron added.  
  
"Excellent," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, if there's nothing else, I'll turn the meeting over to Professor Granger."  
  
Hermione stood up and took a large stack of papers with her. "Good afternoon. If you'll just take one and pass it on," she said, handing the stack to Harry, who grabbed a packet and passed the stack onto Ron.  
  
Harry looked down at the packet and almost burst out laughing. Across the top of the first page, in huge letters, it said S.P.E.W. He heard Ron snort from beside him.  
  
"This is just a short, basic outline for all S.P.E.W. activities this year."  
  
"Short?" Ron whispered to Harry, who began to snicker quietly. The packet had to be at least forty pages long.  
  
"If you'll just look at the first page..." she continued.  
  
Harry sighed and glanced longingly out the window one more time before he resigned himself to follow along with the packet in front of him.  
  
Forty-five painstakingly boring minutes later, everyone was released from the staff meeting.  
  
"That was quite possible the dullest two hours of my entire life," Ron whispered to Harry as they walked out of the room.  
  
Hermione had stayed behind to discuss something with Professor, so the boys had the rest of the crisp Sunday afternoon to themselves.  
  
"I thought I was losing my mind in there!" Ron cried as the two walked down the corridor. Harry continued listening as he looked out the windows they passed that looked down towards the Quidditch pitch. "I mean, they just droned on and on and on--,"  
  
"Ron," Harry interrupted, suddenly stopping to look out the window. "Did you bring your broom?"  
  
"Yeah, of course. Why?"  
  
Harry looked over at Ron.  
  
"Let's go flying!"  
  
"Heh...good one, Harry!" Ron laughed. "Flying!"  
  
"What? I'm serious!"  
  
"You want to go flying down on the old Quidditch pitch?" Ron cried. "We're not students here anymore, Potter."  
  
Harry, however, wasn't listening and had already begun the walk to their room.  
  
"Oh, Ron, lighten up-will you?" he said. "It'll be fun! Just like old times..."  
  
Ron quickly caught up with Harry.  
  
"Harry, are you serious?"  
  
"Perfectly serious!" he answered. He could practically feel the air running through his hair already. "Come off it, Weasley. You know it'll be fun."  
  
Harry looked over to see Ron considering the idea.  
  
"Oh, all right."  
  
Harry smiled. "Well, let's get to it, then," he said, feeling the same exhilaration course through him that used to during his own time at Hogwarts.  
  
*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Hermione walked out of the staff room half an hour after the meeting had ended, feeling quite pleased with herself. McGonagall had loved her S.P.E.W. presentation and thought that almost every part of her plan could be worked in somewhere at Hogwarts. Yes, indeed, she was quite pleased.  
  
The only thing that weighed heavy on her heart was this upcoming ball business. She had finally come to term that this ball was, in fact, happening, only to have another curve ball thrown at her; her partner was to be Ron Weasley-the one reason the ball had made her uneasy in the first place.  
  
Sure, besides the occasional-ok, rather frequent-occurrences of fighting between the two, things hadn't been horribly awkward over the last month. Those awkward silences that had, at first, plagued them both were very rare, as were the references to their past. Hermione had even been able to dull that raw aching in her stomach every time she saw Ron smile or run a hand through his hair.  
  
Hermione shook her head, refusing to think about such things. Deciding that a walk would be a good way to clear her head, she quickly dropped her things off in her room and ventured outdoors to enjoy what was left of her Sunday afternoon. She walked down to the lake, then out towards Hagrid's hut. She waved at the giant of a man, who stopped the weeding of his garden to wave back. Stopping to rest by the trunk of a tree, Hermione shaded her eyes and glanced over to the Quidditch pitch to see two figures zooming around on brooms; neither of them wearing Hogwart's uniforms. She set off to investigate.  
  
Hermione was almost to the Quidditch pitch when she began to hear voices.  
  
"Too fast for you?"  
  
"Never!"  
  
The voices sounded oddly familiar. She climbed atop the bleachers to get a better view.  
  
"Oi! Weasley! IF you moved any slower you'd be going backwards!"  
  
"You're just jealous of my obvious talent, Potter!"  
  
Hermione reached the top of the bleachers in time to see two blurs fly by: one with black hair and the other with red. Smiling to herself, she walked over to a bench and sat down to watch Harry and Ron fly. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, but Hermione really did love Quidditch. Sure, when she was younger, she would sigh and roll her eyes whenever the talk turned to Quidditch, but really, she was listening quite carefully to everything being said.  
  
She blamed Ron totally and completely. It wasn't until they had begun to date that her like of Quidditch had turned to love. He would talk endlessly about the sport: teams, stats, random facts, and soon, she too was a walking encyclopedia on the subject. But, the thing that she undoubtedly loved most about Quidditch was Ron's favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. Horrible as they were, there was something about the team that made her smile. She even had a Cannons shirt and rosette up in her hope chest-not that she'd ever admit it, though.  
  
And, even though Quidditch wasn't something that she was good at, Hermione still loved the game and admired those who played it. She loved watching people up on their brooms, enjoying the freedom that flying gave them. Sighing, she looked up at her friends, once again, who seemed to be racing around the field; Harry in the lead, Ron a few seconds behind.  
  
"Come on, Weasley! You can do better than that," Harry yelled. "In a race with a pregnant woman, you'd come in third. You only have to make it to then end of the field."  
  
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. Ron, though, instead of retorting with another comment, seemed to feed upon the remark and soon was neck-in- neck with Harry. They were almost to the end of the pitch when, in a sudden burst of speed, Ron moved ahead of Harry, winning their race. Hermione stood up and began clapping for the two.  
  
Upon hearing the clapping, Harry and Ron quickly turned on their broomsticks and broke into almost identical embarrassed grins. They began to fly down to where she stood.  
  
"Bravo!" she cried as they landed before her.  
  
Ron bowed before her. "Why, thank you, Ms. Granger. I am a rather spectacular flier, am I not?"  
  
"Oh, shut up Weasley," Harry said, shoving Ron in the shoulder. "You have to admit that my commentary was rather good though."  
  
Hermione laughed and nodded.  
  
"All right, then," Ron said, grinning at her. "Your turn."  
  
Hermione blanched. "Me?"  
  
"Yes, you."  
  
"I...don't...fly..." Hermione sputtered.  
  
"I'll show you," Ron offered.  
  
"But...I...er..."  
  
"Come on, Hermione," Harry said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ron'll show you how."  
  
Hermione looked between the two, and then sighed in defeat. "Oh, all right...but if I hurt myself-," but before she could finish, she found herself sitting in back of Ron on his broom, hovering a few feet above the ground. "Oh my god," she cried as she grabbed Ron around the middle, holding on for dear life.  
  
"Just relax, 'Mione," Ron said from in front of her before he gently pushed off and began to fly about the pitch slowly.  
  
"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down," Hermione kept thinking to herself over and over again. But, the tension was too much for her and she soon found herself looking down at the ground far below her. "Oh my god," she cried again, moving in towards Ron and tightly squeezing her arms around his middle.  
  
"I'm not going to let you fall," Ron murmured gently to her. "Try to enjoy yourself.  
  
Hermione gulped in large amounts of air, trying to understand how he could be so calm when they were floating so far away from the very hard ground. It was several more minutes until Hermione began to relax a little. The cool air felt good running through her hair; the green grounds lay unfurling beneath her feet; and little bolts of adrenaline had begun to run down her spine every time Ron turned the broom. She was enjoying herself just a little bit when, out of nowhere, Harry came flying directly into their path, making Ron swerve quickly to the side, scaring the living daylights out of Hermione.  
  
Before she could restrain herself, she heard herself yell, "What the bloody hell was THAT, Potter?"  
  
Harry laughed at her sudden outburst. "Just wanted you to really experience flying, Granger," he yelled back, smiling cheekily.  
  
Hermione shot him a contemptuous glare and Ron flashed him a rude hand gesture, both causing Harry to laugh even harder.  
  
"Don't listen to him," Ron said. "Flying isn't all like that."  
  
Hermione changed her attention from Harry to the redhead sitting in front of her, finally noticing just how close the two of them were to each other. The wind was ruffling his fiery red hair and caused it to brush against his forehead. Over his un-tucked, white button-down shirt, he wore a blue sweater that felt soft against her skin. Sighing, she gently laid her cheek onto his back and tightened her grip around his waist, enjoying the beautiful sunset over the mountains near-by. Everything seemed perfect. She lay there quietly for several minutes until Ron quietly spoke up.  
  
"Er...Hermione?"  
  
"Yes, Ron?"  
  
"Could you let up on my waist a bit? It's a little hard to breath."  
  
Well, almost perfect.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"You are SUCH an insensitive jerk!"  
  
"It was just a joke!"  
  
"You knew I was afraid!"  
  
"If you hadn't freaked out-,"  
  
"If you hadn't dove straight down-,"  
  
"If you had the common sense to hang on-,"  
  
"If you weren't such an insensitive prat-,"  
  
"If you weren't so serious-,"  
  
"If you weren't so immature-,"  
  
"Would you two STOP?"  
  
Ron watched Harry stand between himself and Hermione, holding up his hands in an attempt to make them stop yelling. Hmph...like THAT was going to happen.  
  
"SHUT UP!" they both bellowed at him before turning to face each other again.  
  
"I'm covered in mud!" Hermione yelled, holding her arms up to show her mud- splattered robes.  
  
"It suits you," Ron snapped back.  
  
"Why you little-,"  
  
"Woah, woah, woah!" Harry cried, stepping between the two of them in order to stop Hermione from lunging at Ron. Harry grabbed onto Hermione and Ron found himself sticking is tongue out at her. "Would you two knock it off?"  
  
Hermione stopped struggling and stepped away from Harry, straightening her robes before sticking her tongue out right back at Ron.  
  
"Would someone tell me what's going on?"  
  
Ron felt Hermione's glare. "Why don't you ask HIM?" she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
  
"Ron?" Harry asked.  
  
Ron sighed and looked over at Harry to see him trying to look reproachful while trying to fight back a grin. "Well, Hermione was afraid and she had a death grip on me and when I told her to let go, she got all snappy with me so I decided to try and lighten her up a bit," he said all in one breath. "It was just a joke."  
  
"Harry!" Hermione cried, her eyes flaring dangerously. "Ron thought that flying straight down towards the ground and pretending to lose control of the broom was funny! He made me fall off the of the broom!"  
  
"We were about three feet off the ground."  
  
"My robes got all muddy and I scratched my arm."  
  
"You should have known to hang onto the bloody broom!"  
  
"You should have known not to scare me!"  
  
Ron crossed his arms and looked away from her, unable to think of anything to respond with.  
  
"Ron," Harry said quietly. "Apologize."  
  
Ron looked back to the two to see Hermione smiling triumphantly.  
  
"I will not."  
  
"Ron, come on," Harry pleaded. "It's getting dark. We need to go in for dinner and you two need to stop trying to kill each other."  
  
Ron sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled in a voice that he could hardly hear or understand himself.  
  
"What was that?" Hermione asked impishly.  
  
"I said sorry," Ron answered, glaring openly at her.  
  
Hermione nodded and smiled smugly at him. Ron fought hack the nasty comment that was threatening to escape from his mouth.  
  
"All right, then!" Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Shall we go get cleaned up for dinner?"  
  
Ron nodded grimly and the three began to walk back up to the castle.  
  
"Oh, she makes me SO mad," he thought to himself, looking over at Hermione's triumphant figure. Just when things had been getting slightly normal between them, she had to go and mess things up; first with being his partner to chaperone at the ball, and then now with all this business on the broom. She had had her cheek against his back and seemed to have been...well... for lack of a better word, SNUGGLING against him! He had to do something-things were getting entirely too uncomfortable! A good fight was always a good way to bring things back to normal, so he just...well...lightened up the mood a bit. He might have taken it a LITTLE too far, but this bloody ball had him at his wit's end! His stomach clenched up just at the though of it. Stupid ball.  
  
Ron had never liked balls; the first (and thankfully the last) one that he had attended had not gone well. Besides the fact that he hated his date and his date hated him, SHE had gone with HIM. Bloody Quidditch git. Oh, how he hated him. Viktor bloody Krum. Why Hermione had ever agreed to go to the Yule Ball with that git was beyond him. So WHAT if he was a stupid Quidditch player? Ok, maybe he was a slightly competent Quidditch player, but nothing more!  
  
Viktor bloody Krum, the git that was the cause for Ron's fragile world to come crashing down upon him in his 4th year. If he had never taken Hermione to the ball, then maybe, just maybe, Ron would never of had to admit to himself that he did, in fact, think of Hermione in a more than friendly way. Stupid Viktor Krum. Who gave a damn if he was hailed as this generation's most talented Quidditch player? Ron sure didn't! He was rather overrated, if you asked him. Harry once told him that he should thank Krum for providing Ron with the proper wake-up call that made him realize how he felt about Hermione.  
  
HA! Thank him...right! Ron felt quite comfortable staying in the dark on the subject that was Hermione Granger, thank you very much.  
  
But, the reason that he hated Viktor Krum ran much deeper than the fact that he was a famous Quidditch player or that he had taken Hermione to the ball or that he had made him admit to himself that he did like her; it was that Krum made him see that Hermione was, in fact, a girl-a rather obvious truth that he'd been carefully avoiding. It wasn't as though he didn't know that she was a girl, it was that he didn't want to know that she was someone who could be called beautiful, who wore make-up and had specific parts that boys did not have. You know, a "GIRL-GIRL". And once he had figured out that she was a "GIRL-GIRL", he realized that he was jealous of Krum for being a huge Quidditch player and that he didn't like him taking her to the ball and that he did think of Hermione as more than his best friend. Viktor bloody Krum was the one responsible for the millions of blushes, slip-ups, tense silences, and the not to be forgotten arguments that ensued from that point on. Before, when Hermione wasn't a "GIRL- GIRL", he didn't have those constant worries of whether he sounded too extraordinarily stupid or if he was being too obvious or his hair stuck up too much. Plus, now she couldn't just be Hermione, his best friend, anymore; she was HERMIONE with the pretty honey colored eyes, insanely curly brown hair and freckled that looked like they had been sprinkled across her nose, who had the ability to make his stomach do somersaults with something as simple as a smile of casual glance in his direction.  
  
And still was his best friend.  
  
Being fifteen is hard enough without having to realize that you are in-like with your best friend. Damn that lousy Quidditch player!  
  
Soon after he had realized that she was a "GIRL-GIRL", and that he did like her, and that he was jealous of Krum and that he was bothered by Krum taking her to the ball, he began to look for clues, any clue, that she just might like him too. He noticed the little things about her then that lead him to hope against all hopes that she just might feel the same way. He studied practically every part of her-the way her eyes lit up dangerously when they fought, they way her mouth twitched around the corners when he talked to her, the way she responded when he spoke of other girls. He learned that he loved to listen to her talk (not that he'd ever actually admit it out-loud) and loved being able to talk to her. She would always watch his lips when he spoke and make a sort of "o" with her lips, almost as though she were kissing each word that come out of his mouth. He loved that he could stay up talking to her all night about anything from Harry to the future to the latest Quibbler article, and never get tired of it. He loved that she was so strong and that even though all these horrible things were happening, she still wanted to everything about the world around her.  
  
He loved that (no matter how much it annoyed him) she seemed to know everything and that she liked to make it obvious to everyone that she did (He took a secret little moment of pride every time she got an answer right in class). But, he loved it most of all when they argued; her eyes would always blaze up and her face would always turn pink and she'd always stand with one hand on her hip while the other was busing shaking at him or poking him. He loved how the smallest things would set her off and he sometimes found himself saying things to deliberately provoke her.  
  
And soon, all these little things that he loved about her turned into one big thing that he loved about her and he realized that he was, in fact, in love with Hermione Granger.  
  
Or that's at least what he told Harry the summer after 5th year and that's what he told himself all through sixth year and that's what he told himself when he found himself kissing her at the beginning of their seventh year on Halloween night. They had been in the common room, her screeching at him and poking him in the chest, telling him to let her win at chess at least once in her life, while he enjoyed the way she looked, absolutely livid with him.  
  
"Just ONCE, Ron Weasley! That's all I ask!" she had bellowed at him. And even though he bellowed back, he couldn't help but notice just how nice she looked when she was mad. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of her pink cheeks and glowing from her angry eyes.  
  
"Every time I try and help you, you yell at me to stop!"  
  
"That's because you always start out saying what a stupid move I just made or that I don't understand 'the heart of the game'!" she yelled back, roughly pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. Ron fought the urge to reach out and touch it.  
  
"That's because you don't!"  
  
"I do too!"  
  
"Why can't you just accept that chess is just something that you're not perfect at!?"  
  
He saw her eyes brighten up even more and her cheeks turn even redder. "You are SUCH an insensitive-,"  
  
And then he kissed her; kissed her with every bit of pent up feeling that he had had within him all these years; kissed her hard, like he meant it. And boy, did he mean it! And, as he had felt her kiss him back, he realized that kissing Hermione was something he would never grow tired of. It was better than chocolate frogs or birthdays or Christmas. It was the best thing ever. When he had finally pulled back-he HAD to! He was out of breath!--, he looked at her to see that her eyes were closed and her lips were still in the form of a kiss. And as he was watching her, he was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her again.  
  
So he did.  
  
And when they finally parted again, Hermione had opened her eyes and looked up at him in surprise for a minute. He looked down at her, still shocked by his own daring.  
  
"That was...nice," she had whispered, bring her fingers to rest gently on her lips. Ron vaguely wondered if they felt as tingly as his.  
  
"Yeah," he answered. "It was-,"  
  
SMACK!  
  
Ron staggered away from Hermione, clutching his face where an angry red hand mark was beginning to form. She had slapped him.  
  
"Oh my God, Ron! I'm so sorry!" Hermione had cried, moving towards him.  
  
"What the bloody hell was THAT for?" Ron yelled. "I kiss you and then you smack me!"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of someone clearing their throat caused her to freeze. The two friends looked around, finally noticing the very crowded common room and realizing that every eye was, and probably had been for the last few minutes, on them. Ron saw Seamus wink at him.  
  
"Er..." he said.  
  
Hermione laughed nervously.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, the two of them quickly went back to their chess game, carefully avoiding the eyes of the other until it was so late that they could barely keep their eyes open; Ron had beaten her again. The common room was empty as the two of them got up to go to bed.  
  
"Well...good night," he said, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Yes, good night," Hermione had replied, tugging nervously on a strand of hair.  
  
He had turned and begun to walk up the staircase when Hermione suddenly yelled out, "Ron!"  
  
He turned around just in time to see a large mass of curly, brown hair pounce on top of him, knocking him over onto the staircase, and begin to kiss him. Ron remembered feeling some pain but soon forgot the feeling of pain in his back and rear when Hermione reached up and linked her arms around the back of his neck, still kissing him deeply. He, in response, had wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him and enjoying the reassuring weight of her body on top of his. Yes, it was now confirmed; nothing in the world was better than kissing Hermione Granger.  
  
When they finally parted, several fantastic minutes later, Hermione had looked down at him and, brushing some of her hair out of her face, had said, "Thanks for the kiss."  
  
Ron grinned. "You're welcome?" and moved his head up to kiss her again.  
  
And that's how it all had begun. Two of the best years of his life had begun with a stupid argument over a chess game. Oh, how he loved chess! The next two years had seemed to fly by, the two of them spending nearly every second together. They had tried to keep it a secret at first, but soon found that keeping it from Harry was a lot more trouble than what it was worth. After they had told him Harry had answered with something along the lines of "About time," that caused both Ron and Hermione to turn varying shades of red. After Harry, they had told Ginny and Neville, and let the other people of the school find out on their own. The whole keeping it a secret from the rest of the school was sort of fun, though. Ron loved the way she used to look at him; her face seemed to light up in a special way, like she too was enjoying the secret they shared. But, behind the light in her eyes, he could see her mind still working, despite all the emotion he saw in her eyes. He loved those secret looks.  
  
Now, Hermione was openly glaring at him as they walked into their room.  
  
"I need to get this mud off me," she said nastily to him, before slamming the bathroom door in his face.  
  
Oh yes, how he had loved that muddy, door slamming girl.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The days before Halloween seemed to swim by, they passed so quickly. One minute they were flying about on the Quidditch pitch and the next minute, it was the morning of Halloween. The air was so thick with tension that day that you could almost slice it with a knife. Harry, sitting between his two friends at breakfast on the morning of October 31st, personally, wished that he was anywhere but where he was at the moment. Neither Ron nor Hermione had said anything more than a simple hello to each other since they had gotten up, obviously preferring to pretend that the either didn't exist. Things had been pretty sore between the two of them since their argument on the Quidditch pitch a few days back, although conditions seemed to improve daily; Harry no longer had to restrain Hermione whenever Ron stuck his tongue out at her or have to cool Ron down after a rather caustic remark from Hermione. But, although things seemed to improve a bit, things also seemed to get a lot quieter as the ball approached. Harry knew that Ron and Hermione were both carefully trying to avoid the fact that they had to chaperone together at the ball. At first, it had been rather amusing, but now it was just annoying. Gone were the joking and playful conversations that had been a huge part of the first month back at Hogwarts. Now, there were lots of long, uncomfortable silences and lots of blushing. It was all very annoying, indeed.  
  
"Pass the butter, Harry?"  
  
Harry grabbed the butter from in front of Hermione and passed it to Ron.  
  
Hermione, obviously wanting to avoid all the awkwardness, quickly excused herself.  
  
"I really should get to class. Lessons start soon." She got up and walked away from the table, not waiting for a reply from neither Harry nor Ron, though both watched her leave with varying levels of discomfort; Ron afraid that he might have done something to offend her or remind her of the ball and Harry nervous that Ron was going to ask him something about Hermione and the upcoming ball.  
  
Harry's fears soon came true.  
  
"Er...Harry?" Ron said.  
  
"Yeah?" Harry answered quietly.  
  
"I don't know if you've noticed, but things have been a little tense between me and Hermione lately."  
  
Harry had to fight back to the urge to burst out laughing. A LITTLE tense? He bit back the urge to say 'And the award for understatement of the year goes to...' and instead said, "Really? I haven't noticed."  
  
Ron nodded wisely. "I am pretty good at hiding it."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, but continued listening.  
  
"It's just all this ball rubbish. It's just...HARD, you know?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know."  
  
"I mean, it's not like I still have feelings for her or anything cause I DON'T, but...well, you know."  
  
Harry was overcome with the sudden urge to hit Ron over the head, but refrained. "I understand."  
  
"So then you will switch partners with me?"  
  
Harry choked on his eggs. "I will not! I've got Brianna Grindan for a partner...why would I want to change?"  
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest in anger, but Harry beat him to it.  
  
"I said I understand. I didn't say I was going to make the problem go away for you."  
  
"But-,"  
  
"You can do this! You've been sleeping in the same room as her for the last MONTH! One night alone at the ball can't be that bad!"  
  
"Well, Yeah-,"  
  
"Suck it up! Just act cool...pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary. Pretend that this is just another night that we are just sitting around."  
  
Ron nodded. "Right...just act cool!"  
  
Harry nodded. "No one will ever know how nervous you are."  
  
"I'm not nervous."  
  
"Right..."  
  
"I'm not!"  
  
"Sure, whatever you say!" Harry said, getting up from his seat. "Just remember what I said. Just act cool."  
  
"Act cool," Rom murmured. "Thanks, mate."  
  
"Anytime," Harry answered, walking away from the table towards the library, thinking that all this ball business was a lot more work than it was worth.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Hermione sat at her desk, chewing on her lip nervously, trying to decide whether or not it was safe to go up to her room and get ready for the ball. She wanted to make sure not to run into Ron on the way out. The last week had been pure torture for her, what with them constantly arguing and constantly being incredibly uncomfortable around each other.  
  
Finally deciding that she could no longer postpone the inevitable, Hermione pushed her chair back from her desk and stood up in order to head up to her room. When she was standing outside, she knocked cautiously before opening the door.  
  
"Come to kick us out, have you?" Harry asked, smiling widely at her as he grabbed a bag and his set of dress robes.  
  
Carefully avoiding Ron's eye, she nodded. "I've got quite a bit of getting- ready to do."  
  
"Well, then we'll leave you to it. We'll get ready in the staff room's bathroom. See you later, Hermione. Come on, Ron." Harry walked out of the room, leaving her alone with Ron for a moment.  
  
He looked up at her and gruffly said, "See you later," before following Harry out.  
  
Hermione shut the door behind them before she walked over to her closet to pull out on of her dress robes that she had chosen to wear to the ball. She grabbed at the dark red fabric of the robes and pulled them out of the closet before laying them gingerly on her bed. She had bought them several months ago when she was shopping for a new set of black robes for work. She had been attracted to the deep, red color of them. They were much more bold than any of the clothes that she had at home-most of them being mute colors. The sales attendant at the store had noticed Hermione admiring the robes and had convinced her to try them on and, eventually, to buy them. They had been sitting in her closet ever since, practically begging to be worn; yet she never seemed to have an occasion that called for such attire until tonight.  
  
When the robes were finally on and all fastened up, Hermione walked over to the mirror to see how she looked. She had accepted long ago that she was never going to look like Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil; nothing about her features stood out, except for her hair, of course, yet she was rather pretty in her own Hermione-like way. Her eyes were a warm brown color with little flecks of gold in them and she had little splashes of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but her hair was as big and unruly as ever. She looked down at the robes to see that they fit her pretty well, though they were a bit lower-cut than she would have liked, but other than that, she didn't look horrible in them.  
  
Hermione quickly returned her attention to her hair, as well as to the jar of Sleak-Eazy's Hair Potion that lay in front of her. Thirty-five minutes and almost a full jar later, Hermione's hair lay flat on her head. She was immensely proud of herself; the last time she had used the stuff, it had taken her more than an hour to do it. She had just planned on letting her hair stay down, but she was overcome with the sudden need to look nice, though she'd never admit to herself why.  
  
After playing with her hair for a good twenty minutes, she finally found a style that satisfied her: a knot that lay on the back of her. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. She then went to work applying a bit of make-up, still wanting to look nice, but not wanting to appear over-done. She felt the millions of butterflies working overtime in her stomach and doubted very much that anyone had ever felt as nervous as she did at that moment (Little did she know that Ron was in the staff room at the moment, trying desperately to get his hair to lay flat and repeating Harry's mantra of 'Just stay cool' over and over in his head).  
  
She had just finished when there was a knock on her door. She opened the door a bit and peeked around, fearing that it was the one person that was making her so nervous about the ball. Luckily, it was Harry.  
  
"Oh, Harry! Come in!" She opened the door and motioned him inside.  
  
"Wow, Hermione. You look different," Harry said. "In a good way," he added quickly.  
  
Hermione smiled. "Thanks, you too," she said, commenting on his dark green robes.  
  
"They are rather nice, aren't they?"  
  
Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.  
  
"I just came up to see if you were ready," Harry said.  
  
"I am," Hermione answered.  
  
"Then, I'm here to escort you to dinner, madam," Harry said, jokingly offering his arm to her.  
  
She took it and the two began to walk down to the Great Hall.  
  
"Where's Ron?" Hermione suddenly found herself asking.  
  
"Oh," Harry answered with a smirk. "I left him down there with Fleur Delacour. No matter how long we're here, I don't think I'll ever tire of watching him get all squirmy around her."  
  
"You're horrible,"  
  
"I know."  
  
They had reached the doors of the Great Hall and stood admiring it in all its glory. There seemed to be even more glowing pumpkins than usual floating around the Great Hall, bathing the room in a sort of eerie orange- ish glow. Swarms of bats flew back and force across the enchanted ceiling, hiding among the many dark eaves and rafters. Other than the many pumpkins, there seemed to be candles almost everywhere she looked and they apparently were scented, because a spicy, autumn scent hung in the air.  
  
"It's beautiful," Hermione sighed.  
  
"Want to go sit down?" Harry aked.  
  
Hermione nodded and soon found herself sitting up at the Head Table, enjoying a cold glass of Butterbeer.  
  
"Where's Ron?" she asked again.  
  
"I don't know," Harry admitted, raising his eyebrow at her, "I haven't seen him since we got here. Why?"  
  
"The food will be served in a few minutes. Shouldn't he be here?"  
  
"I suppose..."  
  
"Then why isn't he?"  
  
"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked, looking at her peculiarly.  
  
"Of course I'm fine, I'm just wondering where Ron-,"  
  
"Sorry!" a voice said just as the lights dimmed to signal the beginning of the ball.  
  
Hermione turned around to see Ron dashing into his seat beside Harry.  
  
"I was in the bathroom hiding from Fleur. That woman still scares me to death."  
  
Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling in pleasure. Almost as soon as Ron had sat down, the entire hall burst into loud cheering as Professor McGonagall stood up.  
  
"Good evening," she said stiffly as though she still hated the idea of this ball. "Welcome to the Halloween ball. On behalf of the entire staff, I want to wish you a Happy Halloween and hop that you all have some good, clean fun this evening. Enjoy."  
  
The entire hall erupted in clapping and cheering once again as McGonagall sat down, still looking utterly disgusted with this ball. At once, people began to order and the golden plated around Hermione began to fill up with food. Everyone was enjoying the delicious food and the light chatter. Hermione, though, was getting a bit annoyed at her two best friends. Every few minutes, one of them could glance down at their watches and say "thirty- seven minutes until NO BROOMS HERE...twenty minutes...twelve minutes...five minutes...two minutes."  
  
"Would you two-," Hermione began, but was quickly cut off by the loud squeal of the guitar.  
  
Hermione looked up to the make-shift stage to see a single light shining on the form of a very attractive brunette clutching a guitar. "No wonder those two like the band..." Hermione thought as she looked at the woman. The dance floor filled up almost immediately and when Hermione leaned over to comment upon that fact to Harry and Ron, she found their seats empty. Sighing. She stood up with many of the other teachers to begin to chaperone duty.  
  
Alone.  
  
She began her tour around the dance floor and spotted a couple of Slytherins dancing in what she thought was a very appropriate way. She narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a menacing manner and the two quickly parted.  
  
"Ahh...you're no fun!" she heard a voice say from behind her. She turned and saw Ron dressed in a nice set of royal blue dress robes. He looked very handsome indeed and even more so when he smiled at her. She was suddenly reminded of the reason that she wanted to look nice and why she had been so nervous.  
  
"You look very nice," he said to her.  
  
She smiled and blushed in response. "Thank you. You look quite nice too. Your robes are lovely."  
  
Ron held up his arms. "They do make me look rather dashing, don't they?" he asked, smiling widely at her.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Shall we?" he asked, motioning in front of him.  
  
Hermione nodded in response and began to walk around the dance floor once again. Ron quickly fell into step beside her. "There...," she thought to herself. "This isn't so bad."  
  
"Do you like NO BROOMS HERE?" Ron asked, leaning in towards her so she would be able to hear better.  
  
"They're all right, I suppose," she answered. "Though I can see why you like them," she added, referring to the attractive singer.  
  
"Oh yeah!" he answered. "They've got an absolutely WICKED drummer!"  
  
"I was talking more about the lead singer...she's rather attractive."  
  
Ron glanced up at the singer and then back to Hermione. "I guess...she's not really my type though. She's too done up. Doesn't seem like she'd be much fun to talk to."  
  
For some reason, this comment made her blush and forced her to look down at the dance floor. She looked up again in time to see Aiden and Greg passing by.  
  
"Looking good, Professor Granger," Aiden said, giving her the thumbs up sign.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hello boys."  
  
"Hey Ron!" Greg said to Ron, who patted each of them on the shoulder as they passed. "Have a pleasant evening you two!"  
  
Ron chuckled. "I can see why you like them so much.  
  
Hermione smile and turned around to look at the pair, making sure that they weren't up to anything. But, instead of watching the boys, something else caught her eye; Shannon Firth, sitting alone at a table, sipping a bottle of Butterbeer. She looked very nice in robes of light blue. Her hair was partially pulled away from her face and held together with a blue clip and she even had a little bit of make-up on. But, she didn't look very happy to be there.  
  
Shannon's face lit up, however, when Aiden and Greg walked past her. Aiden stopped and said something to her that caused her to smile and blush before answering. With a small wave, Aiden walked away, looking over his shoulder every few steps to look at Shannon one last time.  
  
"Hmmm..." Ron whispered from beside Hermione, obviously noticing where she had been staring. "Do I detect some signs of affection?"  
  
Hermione smiled and watched Shannon as she gazed longingly at Aiden. "It does seem rather obvious, doesn't it?" She looked over at Ron.  
  
"Painfully so," Ron answered.  
  
The two continued their walk around the dance floor, Ron signing aloud to almost every song the band played. Hermione was rather pleased with her "chaperone stare"-she hardly had to glance in the direction of a couple and they would immediately part. She saw Harry and Brianna standing near a corner of the dance floor, close to the band. Harry was talking animatedly, constantly gesturing toward the band while Brianna looked as though she would rather be anywhere but her current position. Hermione caught Harry's eye and gave him a small wave and he stopped long enough in his talking to wave back.  
  
"She sure looks happy to have Harry for a partner," Ron whispered to her, handing her a bottle of Butterbeer from the near-by table.  
  
"Ecstatic," Hermione answered, smiling.  
  
"Don't look now, but I think I've got a stalker," Ron whispered to Hermione.  
  
Hermione immediately whipped her head around and spotted the pretty brunette, Lizzie O'Connor, Ron's biggest fan, following behind them and staring adoringly at Ron.  
  
"What are you doing? I told you not to turn around!"  
  
"This is just ridiculous," Hermione muttered. "That girl's obsession is absolutely unhealthy!"  
  
"Well, you think she's got it back? Look at Harry's little shadow," he said, pointing at Victoria Wingfield, who was forcing her dancing partner to stand directly next to Harry on the dance floor, affording her a clear view at the famous Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
"What is wrong with these girls?"  
  
Ron laughed. "It is a little difficult to always be followed by legions of adoring fans..."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you want to sit down for a bit?"  
  
"I thought you'd never ask," Ron answered, taking a seat at an empty table near the dance floor, giving Hermione an excellent vantage point to flash her "chaperone-stare" to a couple of students near her. They quickly parted and Hermione smiled happily.  
  
"You take far too much pleasure in this..." Ron said, smiling widely during a pause between songs.  
  
Hermione was just about to respond when the band started up again. The crowd began cheering and Hermione looked over to see Ron standing up and cheering as well. Obviously, this song was very popular.  
  
Ron sat back down again, looking beside himself in excitement.  
  
"This is a wicked song!" he said, staring avidly up at the band. "My absolute favorite," she added, moving his feet to the slow beat.  
  
Hermione smiled and looked at the dance floor, just watching the different couples sway to the music. She saw Greg dancing with Victoria, Harry's devoted fan. Greg looked quite pleased with his dancing partner, but Vicky seemed too busy constantly glancing in Harry's direction at the corner of the dance floor to pay much attention to Greg. Surprisingly, Aiden was nowhere in sight, so Hermione began to scan the crowd in search of him. She spotted him walking towards the table that Shannon was sitting at, while Shannon seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Aiden. He leaned over and said something that casqued her to blush and nod. He held out his hand and she took it, following him out onto the dance floor.  
  
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "Look!" she said, pointing at the two.  
  
Ron looked over and smiled. "Nice one, Aiden. He's a lucky guy."  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement and looked happily at the two dancing students, fondly remembering what it was like to be a fifteen year old girl in love.  
  
The sound of Ron clearing his throat broke her out of her thoughts.  
  
"Er...Hermione?"  
  
Hermione looked over at Ron to see him looking nervous for the first time that night. She felt her stomach clench.  
  
"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.  
  
Ron reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Er...this is a nice song."  
  
Hermione felt her stomach unclench in disappointment. "Oh, yes," she replied, looking down at the floor as well.  
  
An awkward silence passed over them for a moment.  
  
"Er...Hermione?"  
  
Hermione looked up at him again to see a hand resting on the back of his neck, his eyes still on the floor.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I was wondering...you don't' have to...it's just a question...but I was wondering...since it IS a ball...I'm not forcing you or anything....but I was wondering if...it's a really stupid question-,"  
  
"Ron," Hermione interrupted. "What-,"  
  
"Do you want to dance?" Ron suddenly blurted out, looking up off the floor and directly into Hermione's eyes.  
  
Hermione felt her heart stop in surprise; Ron even looked rather shocked at his own daring-or stupidity-(it looked as though he couldn't decide which it was). The room suddenly felt much too hot and she found it incredibly difficult to breathe.  
  
Still looking him in the eye, Hermione took a deep breath and suddenly knew what her answer would be.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~  
  
"They've been around since the late 90's but they just became popular recently," Harry said to Brianna, pointing happily at the band. "I liked them before they were huge. With them, it's all about the music."  
  
Harry stopped talking and glanced over at Brianna to see her smiling and noticed that it looked a little strained. Ignoring this particular detail, he drew breath and began again.  
  
"They even do covers well! Like, once, they did a cover of this Muggle band called the Rolling Stones for their song Gimme Shelter. Wicked song!"  
  
Brianna nodded briefly, her dark eyes scanning the crowd, not really listening to anything that Harry said--not that he noticed or even really cared. He spotted Ron and Hermione through the sea of student; Ron was singing along to the song playing and Hermione was waving at him. He smiled and waved back before plowing on with his story of NO BROOMS HERE.  
  
"And then, there's this other song-,"  
  
"Mr. Potter!" Brianna snapped at her partner. "I don't give a damn about the bloody band. So, do us all a favor and shut up!"  
  
Harry scowled and furrowed his brow in response, annoyed at her lack of interest in such brilliant band. Just then, the band struck up with, quite possible, their best and his and Ron's favorite song. The entire crowd burst into loud cheering, obviously sharing their opinion. The crowd of dancers began to sway to the slow song.  
  
Next to him, Brianna sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest, but Harry noticed that her left foot was moving slowly to the music. Harry looked over at the dancers, then back to Brianna, opening his mouth.  
  
"Don't even think about it," Brianna snapped, still gazing out at the sea of students.  
  
"What was I going to do?" Harry cried defensively.  
  
"You know damn well what you were going to do," Brianna answered.  
  
"Do not," Harry mumbled, also crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
  
Still looking out at the students, Brianna smirked. "I don't dance."  
  
"I wasn't going to ask you that!"  
  
"Right..."  
  
"I wasn't!"  
  
"Whatever you say."  
  
Harry glared in Brianna's direction before turning angrily back to the crowd. He wasn't able to be angry for too long, though, because as soon as she looked through the crowd, he saw something shocked him out of his angry mood.  
  
Ron and Hermione. Dancing.  
  
Brianna seemed to have noticed at the same time. "Ah...about time they got it together. All of this tip-toeing around the subject was starting to really annoy me."  
  
Harry, still too shocked to speak, just agreed silently, watching his two best friends float across the dance floor.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Yes," Ron thought to himself. "She said yes." He couldn't help the dumb grin that lit up his face, but still tried to act cool anyway. "Relax, Weasley. Breathe." He reached out to offer his hand.  
  
Hermione smiled nervously and blushed as she took it. The two walked over and stood amidst the students, both still looking nervously at the floor, Ron still clutching her own, small, ink-stained hands in his own large ones. Taking a deep breath, he took a step towards her, closing the small amount of distance between the two. He took her hand and deposited it at the back of his neck before placing his hands gently around her waist. She responded by nervously smiling at him and placing her other hand at the back of his neck. The two began to sway gently to the music.  
  
It really wasn't bad, all this dancing business. All you really had to do was sort of revolve on the spot and look like you were enjoying yourself.  
  
"This is a lovely song," Hermione said quietly.  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed. He looked down at her and noticed for the thousandth time that night how beautiful she looked. Even though he loved her bushy hair, it looked wonderful tonight, pulled back in a sleek knot; her robes looked perfect on her; and her cheeks were rosier than he had seen them during the past two months (whether it was from make-up or her current position in his arms, Ron did not know.) He was suddenly overcome with a strong sense of daring.  
  
"I asked you first," he said.  
  
"Sorry?" she asked, confused.  
  
"At the last ball we went to," he answered, "you told me to ask you first and not as a last resort." He paused and moved in even closer to her, searching her eyes. "I asked you first this time. To dance."  
  
Hermione smiled and blushed. She too must have been filled with some sort of daring as well because, the next thing he knew, she had her head gently resting against his chest. He moved his hands a bit lower and pulled her in closer.  
  
Yes, this dancing thing really wasn't bad at all.  
  
And as the two continued to sway to the music, Ron was filled with a strong sense of contentment. He could feel her fingers playing gently across the back of his neck, causing little bolts of electricity to shoot through his body. IT felt like he had finally come home.  
  
And, whispering against the soft shell of her ear, he said, "You were never a last resort."  
  
And in a voice barely more than a whisper, she answered, "I know."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She honestly didn't think she had hears him right. "Whatever would make him bring up such a subject?" she thought to herself, enjoying the feeling of the soft material of his robes against her cheek and the gentle rising and falling of his chest. "Why would he have brought up the Yule Ball?" She tried to think of a logical answer, but she found it rather hard to focus, what with Ron's hands wrapped around her waist and the feel of his breath in her hair redirecting most of her concentration.  
  
Nothong of this, quite honestly, made even the slightest bit of sense to her. There was no reason to ask her to dance or to bring up the Yule Ball, unless he...  
  
No, he couldn't. He just couldn't. That REALLY made no sense. He probably just really wanted to dance to this song or felt sorry for her. That explanation made the most sense. Yes, she would believe that. But, if that was what she believed, then why had she responded like that when he had told her that she had never been a last resort? Or why had he even said so in the first place?  
  
No matter how pleasant all this dancing business was, it was still very confusing. Hermione liked everything to be exact and logical and almost everything that had happened tonight had been neither of those things. Listening to her heart was a lot more difficult than listening to her head. Her heart told her just how right it felt to sway back and forth to the soft music, but her heard told her to stop, stop before she hurt him or got hurt again. No, she wasn't going to go there again. Being separate from Ron after being with him had been one of the most horrible experiences of her life and she had absolutely no intention of doing that again, to herself or to him. She couldn't handle the heartache and the joy and the pain and the laughing and the everything that went along with Ron Weasley.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, hoping to stop her mind from moving and thinking as quickly as it was. Instead, she focused on the other people around her, moving off the dance floor. "Moving off the dance floor?" she thought to herself, her head snapping up from Ron's chest. Realizing that the ball had ended, she quickly detangled herself from Ron's arms and took a step back.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me the ball was over?" she asked, attempting to look angrily up at him. Her anger, however, melted at the sight of his face that had the same look on it the Halloween night all those years ago when they had kissed for the first time.  
  
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," he answered.  
  
"It's all right," she answered, smiling gently.  
  
The two stood awkwardly across from each other, neither really knowing what to say.  
  
"So...shall we go to bed?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, and the two began to follow the flow of the people out of the Great Hall and towards their room. Thankfully, it was rather easy to ignore the awkwardness in the crowd of students, but once they entered their room, the same awkwardness from before hung in the air.  
  
"Well..." Ron began. "That was nice." He sat down on his bed and began taking his shoes off.  
  
"Yes, it was," Hermione agreed, taking her hair down from the bun and fingering her already forming frizz. She grabbed her pajamas and walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. She re-emerged several minutes later to find Ron all ready to go into the bathroom, decked out in his usual night-time attire of a worn shirt (tonight's being an orange Cannon's shirt) and boxer shorts.  
  
"Well...good night," Ron said, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Yes, good night," Hermione replied, pulling on a strand of hair.  
  
Ron had just turned around to walk into the bathroom when Hermione found herself yelling out "Ron!" And, before she could stop herself, Hermione pounced onto him, knocking him over onto the stone floor, all the while, hugging him tightly. Ron quickly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer while she enjoyed the reassuring weight of his body below hers. Finally pulling back, Hermione looked down at Ron and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Thanks for the dance."  
  
Ron grinned. "You're welcome," he answered before pulling her into a tight hug again.  
  
Hermione sighed happily, thinking that maybe balls weren't so bad after all.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
well...that's about the end of the ball-I hope you all liked this completely pointless chapter...I had a LOT OF FUN WRITING IT!!! Please review and let me know what you think!! FYI-Ron and Hermione still aren't together **sigh**. They're just one step closer. But, in true Ron and Hermione fashion, they gotta take one step forward and about 5 back before they get to the end. Oh well, I still love 'em!  
  
Hope you all liked the revamped chapter-I like it much better...heh.  
  
KUDOS TO ANYONE THAT SEES THE SPECIAL CONNECTION AT THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER...  
  
HAVE A HAPPY HALLOWEEN ALL!!! YOU ALL ROXOR MY BOXORS!!!!  
  
XOXO and HEARTS..LOLO =D 


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